Page 121 of Forbidden to Fall

That’s so kind! I don’t want to spread anything she might have, though, so let’s maybe hold off

Sadie

Then I’ll see her next week!

The lack of response felt like an anvil on my chest.

I told myself it would be good to get some extra time for baking, but I barely believed it. I went upstairs to my apartment and sat down on my couch. And then I stared at the ceiling.

I should’ve been with Mia, laughing and playing and covering the floor of the library with books to choose from.

What if I’d unknowingly babysat her for the last time?

What if Ryan was so hurt by my betrayal of him that he no longer felt comfortable being around me—or letting his daughter be around me?

Wiping the tears from my face, I got up and forced myself to go to the farm. Baking would be good for me. Seeing James would be better.

But when I got to the farm, May informed me he was out with a tour group.

“Are you all right, darlin’?” she asked with a look of concern.

There went any thought I’d had of acting normal.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I said with a forced smile.

She narrowed her eyes at me.

“I’d better get started on this baking.” If she asked me any questions, I might burst into tears again.

Mercifully, she let me go.

At the sugar shack, I got to work, drowning out my problems in loud music, butter, flour, and irreversible damage to my ear drums. The perfect quadfecta.

Just when the light outside had started to shift from the impossibly warm sunset hues to the blues of twilight, the door to the evaporator room opened, signaling the arrival of the group for the final portion of their tour.

I hurried to turn down the music as the sound of James’s deep voice came from the other room.

When he peeked his head into the kitchen, there was surprise in his eyes at the sight of me, then confusion. “Hey, beautiful.” He glanced at the tray of blondies I’d just set out to cool. “I thought you were going to be with Mia.”

“Me too.”

He took a step into the room, but I put up a hand.

“I’m okay. We can talk about it after the tour is over.”

His gaze searched mine, then he nodded. “I told the group about you. They’d love to meet you, but I can tell them th⁠—”

“No, it’s fine,” I said. “I could use a little pick-me-up.”

He lingered one more second, then disappeared. I could hear his voice but not his exact words until it drew close again. “Sadie is the brains behind the baked goods here, all made with Carver maple.” He appeared again in the doorway, and other heads popped up behind him, one by one.

He moved out of the way, giving me a better view of a group of a dozen people in their sixties, most with hat-head from the visors and sunhats they’d removed from their graying hair.

“Hi, everybody,” I said with a wave.

They all waved back.

“What are you making?” one of the women asked.